


cherish

by rohesia



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Mason Hewitt, Post-Canon, Tenderness, side Mason Hewitt/Corey Bryant - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26009791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohesia/pseuds/rohesia
Summary: Liam and Theo defying the laws of physics and occupying the same space at the same time, merging into each other, should be the least pressing thought haunting Mason’s mind right now. It’s a welcome distraction, though.Liam and Theo through Mason's eyes.
Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken
Comments: 23
Kudos: 158





	cherish

**Author's Note:**

> Just like "Undetected" this fic is written from a third party's pov, specifically Mason's. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Scoot over, come _ ooon.” _

Mason and Corey snort as Liam pushes at Theo’s shoulder with his hands, feet planted firmly on the floor of the diner and the rest of his body sloping forwards. He doesn’t engage his supernatural strength, probably still recovering from the fight --  _ Jesus the fight _ , Mason thinks as he sits next to Corey, immediately finding his hand under the table -- and, when Theo doesn’t budge, elbows on the table and an amused smirk hidden behind his hands, Liam all but drapes himself over his back, waiting. 

“Asshole,” he murmurs, voice muffled by the hood peeking out from Theo’s leather jacket.

The look Mason and Theo share across the table is equal parts exhaustion and amusement. And possibly camaraderie. It’s not as weird as some part of him still thinks it should be. The weirdness must have faded away together with the wolfsbane Mason burned out of Theo’s body several times in the last few months. 

He shudders. Theo notices but doesn’t say anything, just nudges Mason’s foot under the table, just as Corey squeezes his hand and leans closer to murmur something soothing in his ear.

Monroe is dead, most of her followers have been arrested and the few who have managed to evade capture, according to an usually optimistic Argent, hardly represent a threat on their own, scattered as they are and without a leader providing them with resources and clear instructions. Mason can’t say his mind is entirely at ease, too busy coming up with possible worst-case scenarios and calling up every information they’d collected on the stray hunters to substantiate Argent’s theory or dismantle it. 

Then he remembers Liam’s words: “We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Or next week. Let’s just… go home. I wanna go home.” Monroe is going to stay dead and buried for the rest of their lives, they can let themselves have a moment of blissful oblivion and deal with the nervous breakdowns, the exhaustion, the trauma later. 

Nothing of importance seems to break the surface of his distress anyway and, in the end, enticed by Corey’s warm fingers moving along his jaw, he manages to relax against the worn-out cushions of their booth, in the back of the diner they’d crashed into after Liam, both sleep-deprived and starving, had all but jumped out of Theo’s still moving truck because “Hunters on the loose or not, I’m gonna die if I don’t eat my weight in waffles”.

The waitress, meanwhile, completely ignoring both their little spectacle and Mason’s internal freak out, introduces herself as Kathy and takes their orders -  _ waffles, lots of waffles, eggs, bacon, toast, coffee, loads of coffee, literally anything you have please - _ and by the time she’s noted everything down Theo has slided over their seat with a grunt and let Liam plop down next to him. 

_ Next to him  _ being an extremely loose way of putting it. Liam and Theo defying the laws of physics and occupying the same space at the same time, merging into each other, should be the least pressing thought haunting Mason’s mind right now. It’s a welcome distraction, though.

Liam rests his chin on Theo’s shoulder, left leg thrown over Theo’s right one as far as Mason can make out from across the table. Theo doesn’t mind and goes through his text messages with a drowsy expression, hiding a yawn in his free shoulder as Liam does the same in the crook of Theo’s neck. They look like one, odd mythological creature.

“Scott says to be careful and to get back on the road as soon as possible,” Theo informs them, then smirks, Liam mirroring his expression, and hands his phone over to Corey, who takes it with a quizzical expression and after a moment barks out a laugh that echoes in the mostly empty diner. 

Mason, roused from his passing reverie both by the sound and by Corey shoving Theo’s phone in his face, has to squint twice at the screen before making out Ethan’s face, winking at the camera with a shit-eating grin, and behind him Stiles’ and Jackson’s sleeping figures, draped over each other in the back of Lydia’s car. Stiles is visibly snoring with his mouth open, face half buried in Jackson’s chest. Jackson has one arm wrapped around Stiles’ waist, the other over his eyes, shielding them from the scant light of the approaching dawn. 

The light filtering through the blinds in the diner has the same insubstantial quality. Everything is quiet, save for Liam’s grumbling stomach and nervous fidgeting. Theo shoves his phone back in his jacket and sends Liam, head now nestled in his arms over the table, an exasperated look.

“There’s blood on your collar,” he says, thumbing at the fabric of Liam’s light blue sweater, just beneath his nape, trying to fold it inwards to keep it from showing. 

Liam just nestles his face deeper into his arms and groans softly as Theo leans over him and uses his other hand to repeat the same motion on the other side of his neck, careful and familiar. 

There’s something jarring about the gesture: once upon a time it would have given Mason -- everyone -- pause, both spotting blood on Liam’s clothes and witnessing the easy gentleness of Theo’s hands. Blood is still something Mason hasn’t got used to and he thinks he never will, but whereas two, three years ago its anomalous presence would have frozen and shocked him, these days the sight of it spurs him into action, overriding the ever present nausea. 

But it’s Theo’s featherlike touch and the way Liam’s skin reacts to it, the back of his now exposed neck covered in goosebumps even Mason, with his very human eyes, can spot, that should be jarring. Except now the blood-stained fabric has been carefully tucked away, and nothing seems out of tune anymore. 

Theo, turned sidewards in his seat, lets his hand wander up, until it’s buried in Liam’s hair, soothing and gentle, moving to the sound of Liam’s quiet humming. Following his own movements, taking in the softness threading between his fingers, Theo seems both awestruck and gratified by the way Liam welcomes the touch.

They’re…  _ slightly  _ quieter these days. Constantly being on the field, hunting, fighting and trying not to get killed may be part of the reason why, but even when they settle down after a fight, camped out in the middle of nowhere or in a rickety motel, they barely need to open their mouth to let the other know what he needs or, well, even to insult each other. 

“You falling asleep?” Theo asks, hand still moving in Liam’s hair. 

Liam turns his head, one blue eye flashing under tufts of long, dishevelled hair. “You’re not getting my waffles,” he answers, as he loudly yawns. “Don’t stop.”

Corey shifts beside him and Mason can hear him fight the urge to sigh.  _ Yeah, _ Mason thinks, turning and touching his shoulder to Corey’s, who shakes his head and bites back a huff. It’s not even news, hasn’t been for the last four months minimum, but every time it happens it’s… something. 

Werewolves and chimeras are very tactile, Mason has observed, and they seek touch in different ways. Corey is subtle, at least in public, and almost timid, but even as his head naturally rests in the crook of Mason’s neck, it’s almost overwhelming; Malia is anything but timid, her touch is boisterous, but warm and reassuring; Scott’s touch can be as subtle as Corey’s, never meant to overwhelm or demand anything in return, just comforting and loving, like he can’t even help it. 

But Theo and Liam are something Mason can barely decipher, most of the time. Lately. It must have happened between one near-death experience and another, with long nights spent huddled against each other -- preparing for war, waiting for another battle -- in the middle. 

It’s always been a fight for them, since the beginning, now that Mason thinks about it. First the Wild Hunt, then Monroe and her followers in Beacon Hills, then Monroe, again, all across America. Their relationship is necessarily branded by violence and urgency, having never known a moment’s peace, not counting the occasional long weeks of rest between one attack and the other, filled with tension and unease. 

Tenderness shouldn’t come so easy to Theo, to both of them, and it shouldn’t outweigh the intrinsic brutality of blood-stains and death, but it does. It always does.

They fight together, it almost goes without saying, unless Argent’s strategies call for something different, but then again, the moment Theo fulfills his role he quickly finds his way back to Liam’s side. 

“Oh, I forgot to ask for blueberries on mine…” Liam mumbles, trying to get up. 

“I remembered,” Theo interrupts him, a put-on long-suffering sigh, following Liam’s head with his hand as Liam gratefully crumbles back down on the table. 

Mason can barely follow their lightning quick movements, especially these days, both when they have sparring matches and when they fight against rogue hunters; it was easier at first, when hints of lingering mistrust and the slight delay caused by the need to observe, carefully, and think twice before lunging forward, would slow them down. Mason has seen them fight together against Monroe’s hunters: they’re vicious and implacable, more so when they need to team up. 

It’d been cause for worry, during one specific fight, seeing Liam give in to the shift completely, anger swelling up like roaring waves and crashing down on their enemies; but then, battle over, when Scott’s dad and the FBI agents had rushed to the scene and swept up the warehouse and the surrounding area, the rogue hunters had barely needed medical assistance. At least some of them.

And then he’d started to adjust his perspective, widening the scope to focus on Theo as well as on Liam, and oh boy. 

Mason had seen Scott wear his same stunned expression one afternoon, during one of their sparring matches. The full moon had been about to rise, only a matter of hours, and everyone had made sure to patrol the area more meticulously than usual, placing traps and various alarm systems while keeping a close eye on Alec and Liam. 

“Yep,” Mason had said, watching as Theo lunged for Liam’s throat and Liam quickly sidestepped him, not losing momentum and immediately pouncing forwards, tackling Theo to the ground, a wild, satisfied smile painted on his face. A human smile, no fangs in sight. 

“They’re… anchoring each other,” Scott had completed Mason’s thought, visibly impressed. “I thought I imagined it before, when they took down that group of hunters.”

Mason had just snorted, nearly hysterical, and Scott had imitated him, dropping down on the ground next to him, unable to look away. 

Then Alec had joined them, still shy and unsure around most of the pack, but adjusting and willingly seeking them out during these rare moments of tranquility. 

“So,” he’d started, eyes flaring yellow as he’d tried to follow Liam’s and Theo’s movements. “They the power-couple of the pack?”

And Theo must have heard him, because he’d lowered his guard for a moment, eyes wide and mouth slightly gaping, enough for Liam to land a punch square on his jaw, cracking it. 

_ “Theo! _ Oh my god!”

“What the fuck, Liam!”

“You what the fuck! Let me see… Jesus…”

“... or not,” Mason had muttered.

Liam’s anger and Theo’s ruthlessness, combined, should result in a deadly outcome, Mason thinks, but they mellow each other out, and that makes them even stronger, more focused. It barely makes sense, but that’s the point: nothing about them should make sense, except here they are, one indisputable truth impossible to hide. Like the sun and the moon.

It’s not that he didn’t notice immediately, things changing between them - that’s his thing, paying attention, knowing things - it’s just that seeing it displayed on Liam’s face, in the way his lips quirk the moment his phone lights up with a new text and then slag when he reads the wrong name on the screen, doesn’t convey at all the magnitude of the situation. Mason could turn around and find another besotted, lovestruck teenager wearing that exact same expression, because crushes aren’t so uncommon, not even in Beacon Hills.

The thing is, when they’re together it’s so much more than that. It couldn’t be otherwise. They touch each other like it’s both the first and the last time, with nothing in-between; it’s both the thrill of something entirely new and the ferocity of intimacy. 

“Here you go,” Kathy announces, in a flat tone, as she tries to fit several platters full of food on their suddenly tiny table, going and coming back three times. 

Theo withdraws his hand from Liam’s hair as Liam lifts his head and stares at Kathy like she’s a goddess incarnated. Kathy stares back like it’s barely five in the morning and she doesn’t give a shit. Mason makes sure to leave a huge tip before they leave.

  
  


“I’ll drive,” Mason tells Theo, poking him in the back as they exit the diner, the early morning sun hanging low over the horizon. 

Theo, hood pulled over his head, looks about ready to full-shift, hop into the bed of his truck and drop dead, which is something Mason has witnessed so many times in the last few months it kind of stopped making his breath hitch in his throat. The first time he’d seen Theo in his full wolf form he’d been chasing him in the school’s halls, all murderous intent; now he lets them use him as a heat pillow. 

“Thanks,” Theo mutters, not even going for a snarky comment, just fishing his keys from his jacket’s pocket and blindly handing them to Mason behind his back. 

Liam, holding him by his elbow and trying not to make him crash into a huge pile of wood crates, seems to have regained part of his strengths after having wolfed down enough waffles to make anyone, supernatural creatures included, sick for a week.

“You take the front seat, Cor--…” Liam starts saying, uselessly, as Corey raises an eyebrow at him, one hand already on the door handle, waiting for Mason to unlock the car. “It’s more practical,” he adds, blushing, like he’s only now realizing what Mason and Corey have been witnessing for the last half hour. It’s cute.

“Sure,” Mason and Corey say, in unison. Liam rolls his eyes at them and urges Mason to  _ please oh my god move he’s crushing me! _

Mason unlocks the car and watches as Liam, huffing and panting, helps a mostly comatose Theo climb into the back seat, retrieves the blanket stashed under the cushions, a relic from another, lonely life, and drapes it over Theo’s shoulders like a cape. 

“Don’t make me lie down… ‘m gonna puke…” Theo slurs, grabbing the hems of the blanket to wrap it more tightly around himself. “Turn off the light…” 

“That would be the sun.”

“Turn it off.”

Liam snorts and pulls Theo’s hood lower over his eyes, yanking a couple of times and, when Theo stops cursing the sun, the waffles and the crappy coffee, he moves closer, frees one of the blanket’s hem from Theo’s vicious hold and all but climbs into his lap, head dropping on his shoulder as he enshrines their bodies into the warm embrace of the blanket. 

Theo, already fast asleep, looks real, vivid, as Liam relaxes next to him - over him, into him, the spaces between their bodies rejecting the passage of light and air, patched together. 

“Should we take a picture?” Corey whispers.

Mason turns the key in the ignition, motor rumbling.

“Nah,” he decides, taking one last look at them through the rearview mirror. They look peaceful, just a hint of residual tension lingering on the sloping line of their shoulders. “Not today.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope you liked it <3 Kudos make authors happy!


End file.
